Find the Tide

February 22, 2018
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It either embraces the moon or hides from her to brood.
Even the lagoon in all its opulent mood,
And the destitute creeks,
So coldly meek—
Find the Tide.
Rising and Falling,
Over the dunes in a crawl,
One moment striking and timid in neap,
Frigid from offing to shore to the salty, unknown deep.

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